


electromagnetism (charge me up)

by cute_nerds



Category: VIXX
Genre: (very vaguely), M/M, Mutant Powers, Pining, Vaguely based off of the X-Men, dense fiancés, unrequited sanghyuk/jaehwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cute_nerds/pseuds/cute_nerds
Summary: Usually, when sparks fly in a romance, that's a good thing, right?Not so much for Jaehwan & Wonshik... particularly when the sparks are of a more literal nature.





	electromagnetism (charge me up)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: “Person A has lived a normal life only to have mutant powers awakened in a very public place and be rescued by Person B who's actually part of the mutant underground. Person C, who used to be close to Person A, is part of Sentinel Services and torn between loyalty and their love for Person A.”
> 
> As my working knowledge of the X-Men is not very structured (and I've never seen the Gifted), this isn't an X-Man universe AU, but an AU sort of vaguely based on the concepts thereof. Hopefully, it's still enjoyable!

The file on his desk was taunting him from inside its nondescript grey folder. If paper could laugh, Wonshik was sure it would be – as it was, the file settled for sinister silence instead, leaving plenty of airspace for Wonshik’s mounting dread.

He knew whose name was in that file. He’d known for months, since that fateful day when his fiancé had sparked and then vanished, been whisked away to safety. He’d known since his supervisor had asked him about his relationship with ‘one of the Twisted’, since he’d been relocated to a single office, since Taekwoon was the only one who’d sit near him in the cafeteria. He’d known that it would come down to his supervisor handing him this file and leaving, telling Wonshik to ‘make it right’.

He couldn’t make it _right_. He’d been trying for months, but he hadn’t come up with a solution that sat well with him. His caseload dwindled. He did more paperwork and drank more liquor and sat in his empty apartment staring at their engagement photographs.

Rip off the bandage, he thought to himself, and made himself lift his hand, drag the file closer, and flip it open. His hand came to rest on the name of the fugitive, as if by touching the ink he’d feel a connection to his (former?) fiancé:

_Lee Jaehwan_.

 

 

 

“Again,” said Hakyeon, calmly, and Jaehwan wanted to scream.

They’d been practicing for hours. He was drenched with sweat, his hair was a cyclone of static and frizz, and there were electric burns scattering the floor around his feet. Hakyeon, on the other hand, looked completely composed, not a hair out of place, which was just starting to piss Jaehwan off.

“Do you have any expression _other_ than the cliché warrior-monk mentor?” Jaehwan snapped back, prompting a tiny smile to Hakyeon’s lips.

“No,” the older man retorted, gently. “I do not.” Jaehwan groaned, but Hakyeon did not look sympathetic. “Try again.”

Jaehwan ignored him, taking deep breaths to try and ground himself once more. “You let Sanghyuk do missions without pre-training,” he said, tone swaying dangerously close to a whine. “Why do you make _me_ exhaust myself?”

“You know why,” Hakyeon said mildly. “Sanghyuk has been with us since he was seven. You’ve been with us for six months, and you’re emotional.”

“Okay, Obi-Wan,” Jaehwan grumbled. They’d had this discussion before, but he always had to hear it again. “Fine. I’m emotional. I can fry people in a blink of an eye. Feelings are bad. I get it.”

“Why do you think I’m so calm?” Hakyeon pointed out, not without amusement. “Are you going to try again, or are you done?”

Jaehwan took another steadying breath. “I’ll try,” he said, and Hakyeon raised his hands. “Then begin,” he commanded, and Jaehwan’s fingers filled with sparks.

 

 

 

When he had the time alone, Jaehwan took out the ring.

It had always been beautiful – he’d thought so from the day that Wonshik had put it on his finger. It was a slim silver band inlaid with two thin stripes: their birthstones, side by side. It was still beautiful, but now it hurt to look at. First, because he hadn’t seen Wonshik since he’d had to go on the run, and second, because the stones now shimmered with lightning from the day Jaehwan had discovered his gift.

Well, Hakyeon called it a gift. Here, and in other pockets of safety for people like them, their unusual abilities had many words: gifts, talents, flair. Outside, the slang term was “Twisted”.

Jaehwan wondered if Wonshik thought he _was_ twisted, terrifying, monstrous. He wondered if Wonshik still loved him. He wondered a lot of things, in these moments where he turned the ring between his fingers and remembered happier days.

 

 

 

Footsteps in the hallway meant that Wonshik had to tuck his own ring back in his pocket and look alive. He’d half-risen from the desk to make it look like he was working, only to slump back into place when he saw it was just Taekwoon.

Taekwoon stopped in the doorway, took one look at Wonshik’s face, and turned to close the door behind him. “You look terrible,” were his words of greeting, and Wonshik covered his face with his hands. He didn’t have to say anything – Taekwoon would figure it out.

He picked up the file with much less hesitation than Wonshik had and flipped open to the front page, where Jaehwan’s name and government ID photo were printed in grainy black-and-white. Wonshik peeled his fingers away from his eyes just in time to see Taekwoon’s eyebrows lift once, expressively, and for the older man to give Wonshik a long glance.

“A tough call,” Taekwoon said simply, and Wonshik felt some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders at the simple statement. “What are you going to do?”

Wonshik looked down at his desk, traced one of the patterns in the wood, and tried not to think about the ring weighing heavily in his pocket. “I don’t know,” he said helplessly, and ran both hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know.”

Taekwoon gave him another long look, and closed the folder. “Do you think you know enough about it to decide?”

It was an oddly phrased question, as if Taekwoon was enticing him to say something specific. Wonshik frowned, considering. “Do you know something more than I do?”

Taekwoon looked faintly amused. “Other than the wisdom I have gained with age,” he drawled, “I might have a place for you to start. Let’s go out after work, okay?”

Wonshik mumbled a weak assent. Taekwoon put the file down on his desk and tapped one finger on top of it, decisively.

“You’re a good man,” he told Wonshik. “Trust your gut.”

Unfortunately, Wonshik thought as Taekwoon left his office, Wonshik’s intestines had been sending him mixed, worried messages ever since Jaehwan had gone on the run.

 

 

 

Sanghyuk didn’t knock. He never did, and over the last few months Jaehwan had gotten used to his appearing everywhere without invitation. He didn’t even use the door, just to be doubly annoying.

Thankfully, Jaehwan had finished moping, and was now just lying on his back on his bed, trying to get sparks to trickle through his fingers without the typical accompaniment of anxiety in his stomach (with mixed success).

So when Sanghyuk opened a door in the middle of Jaehwan’s room and popped in from wherever he’d been beforehand (Jaehwan heard the ocean in the brief moment before the door shut), Jaehwan merely tilted his head to look at him with an unimpressed expression, letting the sparks vanish from his fingers.

“Why keep poking the bear?” Sanghyuk asked, throwing himself down on the bed next to Jaehwan. Jaehwan brought his knees up so that Sanghyuk could lean against them, and scowled to belie the kindness of this gesture. “You could just ignore it if you wanted to be normal that badly.”

“Considering how I almost electrocuted you when we first met,” Jaehwan said dryly, “You should be the last person to try to convince me not to learn control.”

Sanghyuk shrugged and got more comfortable against Jaehwan’s knees. “Sometimes you don’t seem like you want to be here, is all.”

“I don’t,” said Jaehwan. “I want to be back home, with a fiancé that doesn’t think I’m a freak, without this burden.” He paused for a moment. “That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful to you.”

“Nah, I get it,” Sanghyuk said, and rolled to face Jaehwan, peering at him over his knees. “You think your fiancé considers you a freak?”

“What else would he think?” Jaehwan said bitterly. “You saw how he looked – you were there.”

Sanghyuk hummed noncommittally, and Jaehwan lifted his chin to peer at him. However, Sanghyuk’s expression was inscrutable. “Yes,” he said finally, and gave Jaehwan an unreadable smile. “I did.”

 

 

 

  
“Do you miss him?” Taekwoon asked, suddenly, and Wonshik looked up from his drink with a sudden look of suspicion. It might have been the third drink or it might have been the last vestiges of common sense (maybe Taekwoon just wanted to bring Jaehwan in, like the rest of the world), but he felt a great reluctance to answer any more personal questions.

“He vanished right before my eyes,” Wonshik said in answer, sullenly swirling the drink around the glass. “I didn’t have time to do anything. Say anything. I still don’t really know how I feel about it.” His eyes felt heavy. Wonshik closed them, briefly, to will tears away. “Yeah,” he added. “I miss him.”

“And what about his gift?”

The drink was making his head fuzzy. “He’s still Jaehwan,” Wonshik pointed out, as if this was obvious and not a point of debate among those who hated powers. “Always knew he was something special.” Something occurred to him, then, and he looked up at Taekwoon with a frown. “You called it a _gift_.”

Taekwoon sipped his own drink. “I suppose I did,” he drawled, and set the glass down. “You’re too gentle, Wonshik. I relax too easily around you.”

Wonshik grimaced. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I shouldn’t be telling you anything,” Taekwoon said, and propped his chin on his hands. His voice dropped to a low murmur, barely discernible from the background noise of the bar. “But you might not remember this. At any rate, none of our superiors will take memories from a drunken night out as gospel, so I suppose this is safe enough.” He sighed. “Hakyeon would say I’m getting soft. But Jaehwan’s safe,” he added, so quickly that Wonshik almost missed it. He sat up straight, then pressed a hand to his temple at the sudden pain from the movement.

“Easy,” Taekwoon told him. “You have to make a choice. You’ve known that for a while now. Jaehwan, and that feeling in your gut that tells you that the gifted deserve safety? Or staying safe yourself and keeping to the status quo?” Taekwoon held Wonshik’s gaze, solemnly.

Wonshik looked back until he couldn’t meet Taekwoon’s eyes any more, and slumped on the table. “I think I need another drink,” he said, and Taekwoon let out a short laugh.

 

 

 

Hongbin was sitting in the back of the room reading a book, looking as though he wasn’t paying attention to anyone else in the practice room. He probably wasn’t, honestly, but he was still doing his job: the slightly holographic targets that were scattered around the room were quite realistic and moving, to give Jaehwan a more varied scene for practice.

Hakyeon was there (as always), leaning against the wall with his perpetually serene expression, one that didn’t even twitch when Jaehwan accidentally sent a spray of sparks in his direction. “Breathe,” he reminded Jaehwan, who made a face. “This is just exercise. Your gift is like a group of muscles, and it needs to be toned and stretched and balanced. Hongbin,” he added, and Hongbin made a face at the pages and looked up, obedient to Hakyeon’s call. “Did you _intend_ to add a dragon to the line-up, or are you reading fantasy fiction?”

Hongbin looked around the room, and a sheepish grin made its way onto his features when he noticed that he had, in fact, created a dragon as one of Jaehwan’s targets. “Too big of a target?” he asked, and the dragon vanished, to be replaced with a faceless individual in a security uniform. Hakyeon nodded at him, and Hongbin returned to his book without batting an eye.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Hakyeon said mildly, and Jaehwan nodded. The sparks rose at his fingertips without a second thought, and he pointed at the security guard, trying to focus on a way to channel his electricity without damage. The sparks didn’t listen, though – they wanted a bolt. They always wanted to make a bolt, as though Jaehwan was possessed by trigger-happy Zeus. Jaehwan grit his teeth at the thought, sweat beading on his forehead as he held the lightning back, so focused that he barely heard Hakyeon hum a soothing note. “Try a rope,” he suggested, “A sheet. It wants to flow, so let it.”

Jaehwan made a strained noise of assent and cupped his hands together, trying to imagine a rope. Slowly, as though he was charming a snake from his cupped palms, a tendril of sparks rose into the air. It looped around the image of the security guard and stopped, hanging in mid-air, until Jaehwan let out the breath he was holding and the sparks shuddered and scattered every which way.

“Good,” Hakyeon said, and Jaehwan said the next word at the same time that Hakyeon did: “Again.”

Hongbin let out a snort of laughter from the back of the room, and Hakyeon smiled. “You’re making progress,” he said. “Don’t stop now.”

Jaehwan gave him a firm nod, and despite the weariness fizzing through his bones, took up a ready stance.

 

 

 

When Wonshik woke up, it was with a pounding headache.

He was alone, in the apartment that he and Jaehwan used to share, curled up on his side of the bed. Someone (presumably Taekwoon) had left a glass of water and some aspirin on the bedside table, and he fumbled for both with fingers that felt as though they’d doubled in size.

The extra drinks hadn’t given him clarity to solve the problem he faced _or_ helped him to forget it – they’d just given him a hangover. Feeling sorry for himself, Wonshik began to lie back down, when he spotted something else on the table – a thin rectangular strip of paper.

He sat up again and scooped it up, absently noting that it was glossy and torn on one side, and flipped it over to reveal two small, square photos of himself and his fiancé. It was a reel from one of those photo booths that you could find in unexpected corners of the city, and the two of them were laughing in both shots. Wonshik’s heart leaped at the sight, despite the confusion at the back of his mind: where had Taekwoon had gotten this?

He supposed it didn’t matter. It was a message, obviously, meant to prompt him to decide. As he cradled the images in his hand, staring at the second shot (Wonshik’s arm around Jaehwan’s shoulders, Jaehwan cupping Wonshik’s cheek, the two of them grinning like idiots into the camera), he knew that it wasn’t really a decision at all.

 

 

 

Hakyeon left the practice session when he was satisfied that Jaehwan wasn’t going to send the room up in smoke, instructing Hongbin to pay attention and Jaehwan to practice until he was back. Jaehwan obliged – his control was getting better, and he wanted to build on that practice.

He was so focused on coming up with new ways to manipulate the sparks that he didn’t notice Sanghyuk stride into the room holding a thin piece of paper, one which he showed to Hongbin. A whispered argument ensued, but Jaehwan was busy working on a shield of electricity and he couldn’t hear anything beyond the humming in his bones.

That is, until Hongbin acquiesced to Sanghyuk with a petulant sigh, and Jaehwan looked up to discover that the illusion facing him was wearing Wonshik’s face.

He froze at the sight, only for the sparks in his hands to heat up. It took tremendous effort to draw the sparks back inside of himself, because Wonshik waved and smiled at him in his trademark sappy fashion and Jaehwan’s legs were beginning to wobble.

When the sparks were under his skin (barely, but control counts, and he hadn’t been training with Hakyeon for nothing), Jaehwan turned to face Hongbin and Sanghyuk, who were both watching him: Sanghyuk with an intent expression, Hongbin with a furrowed brow.

“What,” Jaehwan said tightly, tasting sparks on his tongue, “Are you doing?”

“I wanted to see,” Sanghyuk said, looking confused. Jaehwan glanced back at the illusion, who was still looking at Jaehwan how the real Wonshik used to (with adoration), and then back to the others. “See _what?_ ” he snapped. “Me lose control? I could have _hurt_ you two – “

“What is going on?” Hakyeon asked from the doorway, sounding entirely unamused. “Sanghyuk, are you causing trouble?”

He crooked a finger at the two, and the piece of paper lifted out of Sanghyuk’s hand and floated to Hakyeon, who narrowed his eyes at whatever was on it. Jaehwan took advantage of the moment to take some deep breaths and separate his temper from his gift, focusing on Hakyeon rather than Sanghyuk or the Wonshik-illusion.

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said finally, and his voice was cool, “I will speak to you later.”

“I was just – “ Sanghyuk protested, and Hakyeon raised one hand to forestall his words.

“I know,” he said, “Because it’s not like you to be unkind.” Sanghyuk blanched as the words hit him, and Hakyeon nodded. “I’ll speak to you in a few moments.”

Sanghyuk turned towards Jaehwan, expression distraught. “I’m sorry, Jaehwan,” he muttered, “I didn’t know you still loved him.”

Hongbin followed Sanghyuk out, murmuring an apology, which left Hakyeon, Jaehwan, and the tiny piece of paper. Wordlessly, Hakyeon extended his hand, and the piece of paper drifted across the space between them to Jaehwan.

The paper contained two pictures of Jaehwan and Wonshik, half of a photo reel that Jaehwan remembered taking on one of their earlier dates. He touched Wonshik’s ink-and-paper face carefully, willing himself not to spark (or burst into tears).

He heard his name, and realized that Hakyeon had been calling him for some time. Jaehwan looked up and met Hakyeon’s concerned gaze with a watery smile.

“I really miss him,” Jaehwan confessed, looking back down at the photographs, and how Wonshik looked at him as though he were something precious. “I hope he’s alright.”

Hakyeon smiled. “Thankfully for _all_ concerned,” he said, “I think I have some good news.”

 

 

 

Wonshik wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here, in the file room of a government agency, about to lose his job, go on the run, and steal a bunch of important files (not necessarily in that order), but he _was_ sure it was worth it. His ring was back on his finger now, and he touched it every once in a while for reassurance, as if trying to send a message to Jaehwan that he was okay.

“I’m glad one of us knows what they’re doing,” he said, watching Taekwoon slide in front of the computer and start punching keys. “What exactly did you need me for, anyway?”

“Moral support,” Taekwoon drawled, and raised his eyebrows at Wonshik, “Start taking the paper copies, lover boy.”

“When did you become so patronizing,” Wonshik muttered, but did as he was told.

Discovering that Taekwoon was actually part of the gifted underground had been a shock and a half. Though not actually gifted himself, Taekwoon was childhood friends with the leader of the movement, and had been helping them with jobs that the gifted weren’t able to do - such as break into a secure facility with bio-scans designed to detect those with gifts. Taekwoon had (apparently) been planning this for some time, and collecting Wonshik was just the icing on the cake.

Wonshik laid down the duffel bag he was carrying and started emptying the filing cabinets into it, grabbing any important files that he could find. It might only be a temporary inconvenience, but any little bit would help.

When his bag was full, Wonshik returned to Taekwoon, who was finishing up on the computer. “We’re going to have to get out quickly,” Taekwoon said, frowning at a line of code. He tapped a few more keys decisively, then spun around in his seat. “If we can make it to the rendezvous point, we’ll be fine. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Wonshik replied, and Taekwoon grinned.

 

 

 

He may have regretted that situation about half an hour later, when the two of them were running for their lives.

“Why,” Wonshik panted, “Did you have to leave an explosive behind?”

“When you lead your own undercover mission,” Taekwoon pointed out, “You can question my motivation. For now, turn left-“

The two of them ducked to the left, into a park. Wonshik hoped the trees would provide some cover, because he was getting tired and discouraged that help would show up.

“Are we close to the rendezvous point?” he asked, and ducked a branch. Taekwoon gave an affirmative grunt and grabbed Wonshik’s wrist, tugging him between two bushes and down a short hill. They were in a hollow of sorts, hidden from immediate view, and Wonshik did his best to catch his breath as quietly as he could.

“I already paged Hakyeon,” Taekwoon hissed into Wonshik’s ear. “They’ll be here shortly.”

“Who’s they – “ Wonshik started to ask, only to be silenced by Taekwoon’s large, sweaty palm covering his mouth. Wonshik grimaced, but stayed silent.

The seconds seemed to stretch interminably as they waited to be found by either their pursuers or whomever was coming to rescue them, and Wonshik filled it by pacing as quietly as he could and spinning his ring on his finger. Taekwoon had promised that this endeavour would bring him to Jaehwan, and he could only hope that this was not only true, but that he would make it there.

There was a crashing sound approaching through the undergrowth, and Wonshik froze in place just as a contingent of singed, understandably angry agents poured through the trees. He glanced at Taekwoon, who looked strained, but not entirely alarmed, and his free hand went to his engagement ring for comfort.

_I hope you’re okay,_ he thought to Jaehwan, wherever he may be. _I love you._

As if Jaehwan had heard him, a portal opened in the middle of the hollow and disgorged three men: the portal-wielder, a tall solemn figure who shook his head at the sight of Taekwoon in the clearing, and Jaehwan himself, who jumped through the door streaming sparks and landed with an angry yell.

Wonshik had never seen anything so beautiful.

 

 

 

Jaehwan hadn’t exactly been expecting to see his fiancé on this mission, but he wasn’t _complaining_. This was a new chance in so many ways: to prove that Jaehwan still cared for him, to show him that Jaehwan’s new talents were a good thing, and to prove his worth as part of the team. He came out of Sanghyuk’s door with his fingertips trailing lightning and instantly picked out his targets, ringing them with lassos of electricity.

Hakyeon had already disarmed most of them, simply willing the weapons out of their hands, and was strolling towards the man accompanying Wonshik (Jaehwan assumed it was the infamous Taekwoon) with purpose. “Always improvising,” he sighed, and Taekwoon stuck his tongue out at Hakyeon. “Ready to go?”

“After you,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon rolled his eyes and led Taekwoon through Sanghyuk’s door.

Jaehwan ignored them, as well as their captive audience, and made a beeline for Wonshik. He looked as though he couldn’t believe his eyes, and reached out for Jaehwan as if it had been only days since they’d last seen each other. For the first time in a long time, Jaehwan felt hope bubbling up inside his chest.

“Are you okay?” Wonshik asked, worried eyes checking Jaehwan over for any sign of injury. Jaehwan put his hands in Wonshik’s.

“Never better,” he said sincerely, and Wonshik’s eyes met his own and held, smiled. “Are you?”

“I am now,” Wonshik said. Sanghyuk, holding the portal open in the background, snorted. Jaehwan flicked a single spark in his direction, and looked back up at Wonshik.

“I know things have changed,” he said, hesitantly, “But I still love you. Is there a chance… at all..”

“I love you too,” Wonshik blurted out, and Jaehwan laughed.

“Then you’d better come with me,” he said, and twined their fingers together. “I think we have a lot of work to do.”


End file.
